De Profundis
by Aberdeen Wiggins
Summary: Aragorn Legolas slash! Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?
1. A Twilight's Tale

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke, Le Fay   
E-mail: juliebgood001hotmail.com   
Website: miladyhawke on livejournal   
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: 1/6   
Rating: R overall  
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (sort of), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where it's going.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.  
  
Overall summary: Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?

Milady's notes on Chpt. 1: "De Profundis," meaning "Out of the Depths," is the Latin title of an ancient Christian prayer that was and still is said at twilight for the relief of suffering, and this story is my response to the attitude that obscure canon pairings are "highbrow" while well-known pairings are passé. The biggest exception to canon here is that my Aragorn resembles movie Aragorn somewhat more so than book Aragorn. There's also a little fiddling with Legolas' post-quest fate, but nothing egregious.   
  
Chpt 1 Summary: _A little push and a lot of wine loosens Legolas' tongue as to the secret of his grief, but does Aragorn really want to know?_  
  
**  
Chapter 1: A Twilight's Tale**  
  
"Love," said the elf lowly in a deep, drawn out tone sickened with contempt. "Humph. Would you like to hear a little story about love?"  
  
Wide-eyed with dismay, Aragorn took mental note of yet another topic of conversation not to be broached with the unusually temperamental elf.   
  
Upon finding Legolas precariously perched on the rail of the balcony outside the elf's chambers and looking coldly out into the motley-colored veil of twilight spreading softly over Gondor, Aragorn had thanked the Valar that he thought to bring with him a bottle of wine. And then, as he approached his friend with cautiously measured steps, he noted the several bottles already strewn haphazardly about the terrace and the many fragments of what had been bottles. Odd, indeed, that one of the fair folk would imbibe so imprudently. He could count on his hands the number of times he had seen an elf truly drunk, his twin brothers accounting for most.   
  
Though, he bethought, by now nothing should surprise him in Legolas this time of the year. It was again that time when all the world bedecked itself gaily, rejoicing and singing in memory of the victory over great evil. And Gondor added to this joyful noise the remembrance of a king's coronation and the wedding of his bride, and Legolas came to the festivities from his neighboring elf colony in Ithilien – and withdrew into himself utterly. There was little that Aragorn could say in these summer months that did not seem to displease his friend.  
  
"Legolas," he had called gently, "come down from your height and deign to have a glass with me. Do not pine for the forest. I am sure you shall soon enough tire of my company and be back in your leafy bowers again."   
  
Aragorn's attempt at levity had no apparent effect on the elf's demeanor, though Legolas did swing his legs around and down to meet the floor, allowing the man to exhale the breath he had not realized he held. Sauntering up slowly, Legolas sank next to Aragorn, drawing his knees up and pressing his back tightly to the wall, his shoulder almost grazing the man's.  
  
"What shall we drink to?" he had said.   
  
"Let us drink to Love. Tonight it is the tenth anniversary of my wedding," offered Aragorn, attempting to steer the conversation to light-hearted subjects.   
  
How wrong he had been, judging from the elf's coldly questioned reply.   
  
Pouring for the two, Aragorn settled back and offered a glass, sickened at heart but eager to take advantage of his friend's loosened tongue and to hear what might perhaps hold some clue to the secret of Legolas' grief.  
  
"It is a long, sorry story that may pain you to hear. Are you sure you wish it?"  
  
"I have time enough and interest," said Aragorn. "Be the story worthy of song?"  
  
"And lament."   
  
"Is it sublime?"  
  
"It is pathetic."  
  
"A story of valor?"  
  
"And fear."  
  
"Hope?"  
  
Here, Legolas froze suddenly, deathly still. When he spoke, it was slowly and in a deliberate voice. "Oh, yes. It is of that. And despair."  
  
"Well, go on then," the man urged, breaking under the intensity of the elf's level gaze and looking away to the horizon. "I am riveted."

-tbc-


	2. Once Upon a Time

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke, Le Fay   
E-mail: juliebgood001hotmail.com   
Website: miladyhawke on livejournal  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: 2/6   
Rating: R   
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (sort of), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Ask and you shall receive.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.  
  
Overall summary: Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?

----------------------------------------

Chpt. 2 Note: The gods forgive me for naming Trystan's horse after a Valar. Oh, and in this chapter, the love scene by the falls was inspired by Elisa's manip, "Rauros," at Lassegalen's Laire.  
  
Chpt. 2 Summary: Beware snakes, witches, and elves offering apples.  
  
**Chapter 2: Once Upon a Time  
**

"Well, go on then," the man urged, breaking under the intensity of the elf's level gaze and looking away to the horizon. "I am riveted."  
  
"Once upon a time, during The Watchful Peace it happened that an elfling was conceived in a woman of The Great Wood who had tried long for a child to occupy the empty days in her chambers, her husband's high position leaving him little time for her, and her three fine sons already full-grown and busy with their duties and families of their own. Into the making of this child she poured all of her longing, her loneliness, her love, and her hope. She was rewarded with a baby boy, but she was not to enjoy him."  
  
"What happened to her?"  
  
"She died," Legolas said blankly. "Giving her child life." The golden head bowed. "Even the strength of elves is not proof against nature."   
  
"Before the spirit fled her wracked body, she held him in her arms briefly, and a moment came upon her of intuition. She prophesied that, birthed in sorrow, her son would die like she, for want of love. And so she named him Trystan, which means 'Sorrow-born,' but the father would later not call him by that. The woman went on to say that the boy would honor his father's house and be one of the great heroes of his people, but in the end he would be brought low by his love for one outside of his race and his reach."  
  
"Aye," Aragorn mused. "Oft are such loves doomed in the history of Arda. Arwen and I are very lucky."  
  
"Yes, you're very bright." Crossing his fingers behind his back, 'Not really,' Legolas thought to himself.   
  
"The husband was beside himself in his grief, and he determined not to fail his new son as he had failed his mother. He lavished his attention and all his love upon Trystan, who grew up strong in body and mind, true of heart and tongue and bow, skilled in the arts of both war and scholarship and more in love with the woods and waters wild than in his rank. But ever mindful of his wife's pronouncement, the elf sought to shelter his son from the outside world, sending instead his other sons to run his messages and to carry out his business."  
  
" 'Twas not over long by elven standards when after his majority Trystan grew restless. 'I am as capable as they,' he thought, 'though less experienced. And my heart does yearn to see a little of the world outside the borders of my home. It is also time that I eased my brothers' shoulders of responsibility and proved myself useful to both them and my father.' And so when 'twas time for to carry another message, Trystan went to his father and begged the bearing of it."  
  
"The elf-lord bethought himself that it was a reasonable request, though a warning knell sounded deeply in his heart. He could reckon no harm in letting his youngest carry a missive to another elf kingdom. He was brave enough for the journey, he was swift and fell in combat, and no hurt could come of letting his son visit his cousins to the west. He could not, after all, expect to keep his son locked in a bubble forever."  
  
"And so Trystan rode forth with the exuberance of his first real adventure. Orc skirmishes were not unknown to him in guarding the borders of his kingdom, nor were the monstrous spiders and other dark creatures that haunted his land. With a stout heart he set out on his travel, dispatching quickly what few orcs he encountered and reveling in the change of scenery as he passed through forest and dale, mountain and plain. He arrived somewhat bedraggled and feeling very manly for it."   
  
"Trystan scarcely heard what was said to him by the being who offered greeting into this new kingdom. The land was welcome to his eyes and rivaled the beauty of his home, so different, but so wonderful. Its mountain peaks kissed colorfully as they touched the very firmament of heaven and it's wide, open valley shadowed in what seemed a veil of comfort and peace after long weeks on the road. Intricately carved knot-work snaked along the columns of its houses while fair elf youths flitted about the many lawns and fruit groves that adorned the valley. A very paradise, he thought."  
  
"As the other man grabbed the reins of his horse Nienna to take her to stable, Trystan turned for the first time to appraise this person. A man, young, fair of face and form with the earthy look of a warrior but the gentle eyes and hands of a healer. And no elf, he noted with shock, but a human man in truth. And such a man. Trystan had seldom seen and less often met one not of his race, and yet here was a human man of what seemed to him rare quality, greeting him and offering to take his horse. 'What a wondrous place is this strange elf kingdom with such beautiful beings in it,' he bethought himself."  
  
"He loved the man, didn't he! At first sight!" exclaimed an open-mouthed Aragorn, now clutching tightly to Legolas' arm.   
  
A deep, simmering growl welled up from the elf. "Why don't you pour yourself another drink? Now be quiet and listen."  
  
"If I might continue, as time passed for Trystan in this enchanted realm, he observed the man's honored position, sitting near the great lord at table, conversing with the land's ministers, walking the gardens as if he owned them. 'Twas not long before Trystan found himself seeking out the company of this engaging creature who seemed a solitary specimen of the wider world and who yet had the run of the country. The sound of his laughter, it was deep and rich to Trystan as the spiced taste of honey mead . His eyes held all the mystery of the depths of the ocean and drew Trystan inexorably to him as the sea calls to his kind. The man's hair was an unruly swirl of burnt autumn leaves falling about his face with the disarray of some semi-wild creature. The man was intoxicating.   
  
And one day, stumbling across the man as he sat bathed in a spray of light refracted from the mist of one of the many waterfalls adorning the land, Trystan was startled to realize that he did, indeed, love this human."   
  
"Oh, I knew it!"  
  
"Yes. Good for you, Aragorn. Now as I was saying, as he eased himself down next to the man without breaking their locked gaze, it felt the most natural thing in the world to cup his beloved's face to his."   
  
"They made love by the water that night, slow and deliberate, learning the hard and soft contours of each other, the heady tastes and scents of arousal, what places that when touched or licked made the other mewl with satisfaction or keen in desperation. Their joining was like fire and black powder that when kissing consume each other in a brilliant explosion of light and heat and sound..."  
  
"...but in the shadows watched the lord of the realm, and he had other plans for this human."  
  
Aragorn had almost forgotten the way this story started. It had turned out delightful thus far, but here came the inevitable perversion from Legolas. He set his jaw and waited.  
  
"The lord was kind to Trystan the next day, but unrelenting. The man had a great destiny before him that Trystan could not forever be part of. The human would learn of this soon and meet the lady he was to marry, for much depended upon their joining. Trystan must let the man go."   
  
"'Is he to have no say in this?' pleaded Trystan, upon his knees then in a tear-stained heap on the floor."  
  
"'His destiny is greater than the both of you. Would you deny him this future?' spoke the wise one before him."  
  
"And there was no argument Trystan could tender, for love is not selfish and bears all things."   
  
"The lord then withdrew from the folds of his robe an apple that looked like any other. He circled Trystan, who still knelt on the ground, and holding the apple out the lord said, 'It is my gift to you. Taste of this, and then offer it to your love; I would not have you both suffer without need. One bite, and you both will forget all that has passed between you.'"  
  
"And for better or worse, Trystan took it. He went to his lover's chambers that night, and thought on the apple, and looked at his love." 

-tbc-


	3. An Indecent Proposal

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke, Le Fay  
E-mail: juliebgood001 at hotmail  
Website: miladyhawke on livejournal  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: 3/6  
Rating: R overall  
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (sort of), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where it's going.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.  
  
Overall summary: Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?  
  
Rating: Plenty of R action in the next chpt. Such a tease, I know.  
Chpt 3 Summary: Realizations and rash promises leave Aragorn honor-bound.  
  
**Chapter 3: An Indecent Proposal  
**  
"And for better or worse, Trystan took it. He went to his lover's chambers that night, and thought on the apple, and looked at his love. 'Yes, I would spare him the pain of separation,' he thought, 'but I will bear it myself. I refuse to forget my love for him. He has much to look forward to but I will forever look behind me at him. Though he lies in another's arms, the memory of us at least will be mine.'"  
  
"And so thinking, Trystan closed his eyes tightly and bit the apple, passing the piece from his mouth to his love's in a kiss that would haunt him through all the ages of Arda."  
  
"Trystan left at first light, concealing his grief with great care as the lord looked on when he left, suspecting nothing but that Trystan and his love had both eaten of the fruit."  
  
"The days turned to years, and from thence, decades, and still the memory of the man veiled Trystan's heart like the lengthening shadows o'er his woodland realm. But 'twas not only his land threatened by this menace but many that felt the dark looming near. When the summons came to a parlay addressing the great evil creeping back into the world, Trystan went, back to the very elf kingdom where he'd met the man."  
  
"Legolas..." said Aragorn, canting his head to the side to appraise his friend for the first time.  
  
A fell spark that Aragorn had not seen save only in battle burned in Legolas' eyes, and his whole face seemed intensely clenched against a flood of warring emotions threatening to spill. As if squeezed by the grip of bone-chilled fingers, Aragorn felt his heart contract and his breath stop abruptly in his chest. This part of the story was starting to sound too familiar.  
  
Catching breath again, he said, "My friend, pardon my discourtesy, but I begin to feel unwell from the wine. If you will forgive me, perhaps you can finish your story later."  
  
Legolas' arm flew to bar Aragorn's chest, halting him as he made to rise.  
  
"Ah, yes, I'm sure the queen will ease you, but if you would have my story, you must hear it now or never," said the elf, his voice coming rapidly, gaining a tremoring octave, his arm remaining firmly across the man's chest. "I will be quick, then."  
  
Aragorn's eyes closed slowly while his hands compulsively clenched and unclenched. This was not happening - this could not be true. Surely... Legolas did not mean... this was madness!  
  
"Trystan was reunited with the man, and when in council 'twas decided that a band would be sent forth on a secret mission to undermine this evil, and the man pledged himself to..."  
  
"Do not aggravate yourself, friend," Aragorn said with trembling restraint as he stood, turning his face away and stepping through the balcony arch.  
  
In a second, Legolas was upon him with lightening speed, with feverish strength holding Aragorn's arms to his sides tightly and forcing him against the wall with a grip the man could not hope to break. Legolas was up in his face then, inches away and following the movement of Aragorn's head with his own as the man tried to look away, the elf's searing gaze pursuing him as if he were quarry. Aragorn could feel Legolas' moist breath caressing his cheek warmly and the heat of his body radiating between them. His heart raced wildly with excitement and fear, urging him to fight or flee, but knowing neither would avail him against an elf, he sank back limply against the wall.  
  
"The elf was helpless not to pledge himself to the quest – for the sake of this man who had forgotten their love," came the passion-racked voice that refused to stop but kept coming in broken, raging torrents.  
  
"Through dangers unnumbered Trystan fought his way alongside his love to the very mouth of hell itself, to protect the man. And do you know what his reward was," the elf nearly shrieked, "when the quest was over and the two were great heroes? Do you?"  
  
"Among all the things the two fought for," he sobbed, "the man fought most for the love of a lady, who he married. And the elf watched with a broken heart and yet stayed near his love until he could bear it no longer and he began to fade with the weight of his grief."  
  
A tremor ran through Legolas then that threatened to buckle his knees, forcing him to grip more tightly to Aragorn. Then suddenly, he backed away.  
  
"But I can watch this no more, Aragorn," said the elf in a low voice. "I will leave these shores for the Undying Lands, before my mother's words can bear fruit. It is funny, is it not? That though I have fought to save this world, there is naught left in it for me?  
  
Farewell, my friend. We shall not meet again in this realm."  
  
As Legolas said this, he touched his hand to his head and then to his heart, sweeping out from it in a final farewell. In that moment a mist covered Aragorn's eyes and it seemed to him as if nothing of Legolas remained before him but a faint afterimage dying in the cool night air. He reached out a tentative hand, let it fall again. Unchecked, Aragorn's tears ran rivulets down his cheeks.  
  
"Legolas..."  
  
The elf turned slowly as if to leave.  
  
"It is... much... that you ask me to believe and accept," the man spat out quickly. "I don't know what to think of this story you've told me, but I do know this, that you have been my strength when my own failed and my dearest friend. You know this," his voice trailed. "I have cherished you above all others, you and she alone – you mean no less to me."  
  
A thin smile twisted the corners of the elf's mouth and his head nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Before the elf could turn away, Aragorn bridged the distance between them and found the back of Legolas' neck with his hand, tilting their foreheads together.  
  
"I am truly sorry I do not love you the way you wish. I cannot regret my love for Arwen, but if a part of my heart could love you now, it would."  
  
He wrapped his arms around the elf, holding him tightly as if his life depended on it and pressing his forehead into the crook of the elf's shoulder and neck, burying it in the silky drapes of hair. He inhaled. It smelled like newly washed foliage after a summer rain. Aragorn wanted to memorize it, the scent, clean and new - a young, green scent that had soothed him to sleep many times in the wild as they lay wrapped together under one blanket. It could not be that this was the last time he partook of the strength and grace that was the true beauty of his friend. How could he deal with the loss of one dearer than brother? And he was indebted for so much but had never truly repaid that debt. Legolas deserved so much more than he could give; he must let his friend go.  
  
But long moments passed, and Aragorn still held the elf to him, long enough to let the selfish fear well up in his heart, even as he hated himself for that weakness in his blood he was so well aware of. He looked up at Legolas, his arms still wrapped about the elf tightly.  
  
"Is there nothing I can do to make you stay?" he said. "Must it be you or Arwen?"  
  
The elf looked at him as if he were daft.  
  
"Aye, but there is no choice," he said. "You cannot abandon her now."  
  
Releasing Legolas, the man paced to the balcony rail and gripped it tightly, leaning slightly over.  
  
"What about what I want?" he retorted. "Perhaps I am tired of always being noble. No one has ever asked me what I want. Not Elrond. Not you."  
  
Legolas' brow furrowed in on itself at this. The man had a point. Was it not what he himself had said to Lord Elrond all those years before? Was he wrong then not to give Aragorn a choice, to let him be a mere pawn in the hands fate? His face tilted up to the sky in question. Earendil shone down from the far horizon. Sighing, Legolas steeled himself and turned the man around to face him.  
  
"What would you give for the chance to keep me near?" he said. "Think well on it, Aragorn."  
  
"For the chance?" Aragorn looked puzzled at this. "If there is ought in my kingdom that might ease your heart, you know it is yours. I give you my word; you have only to ask. Speak on," he urged.  
  
"One night," replied Legolas. "Give me one night with you, and mayhap I can teach your heart to remember, though your mind does not."  
  
A stunned look passed over Aragorn's face, his mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical under other circumstances. This was evidently not what the man had in mind.  
  
"You are a king, Aragorn. Kings take lovers. It is your right."  
  
"But... it is my anniversary," stammered Aragorn, "and I," he mumbled to his boots, "haveneverlainwithaman. AtleastnotthatIremember."  
  
"Would you go back on your word? You promised me anything."  
  
"So I did," said Aragorn. "So I did."

-tbc -


	4. One Night

FOR THE LOVE OF SLASH AND ALL THAT IS GAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER HERE. GO TO MY LIVEJOURNAL AND READ THE UNCUT, NC-17 VERSION. THE ONE HERE IS BUTCHERED TO KEEP THE R RATING. Go here: www(dot)livejournal(dot)com/users/miladyhawke/5570.html Replace the (dot)s in the address.   
  
**Thank you reviewers!**

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke, Le Fay   
E-mail: juliebgood001(at)hotmail(dot)com   
Website: www(dot)livejournal(dot)com/miladyhawke  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: 4/6   
Rating: R overall  
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (sort of), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where it's going.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.  
  
Overall summary: Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?  
  
----------------------------

Chpt 4 Rating: R this chapter! Last chance to turn back before the sweet A/L debauchery.  
Chpt 4 Warning: Brief mention of A/A het. It'll be ok - I promise. We'll get through it together.  
  
Chpt 4 Note: I owe a great debt of gratitude with this chapter to that inestimable author, Elfscribe, who invited me to play with the big kids. If she hadn't been looking out for me, Chpt. 4 would have fallen completely flat and made no sense whatsoever plot-wise. I also bow to Christine Fireheart and Larien Elengasse, delightful authors and careful betas who graciously lent their sharp eyes to this chapter as well. I've been so well looked-out for! Also, special thanks go to the Aniron archivist, May, for inspiring me to revise the love scene. Because Legolas does not belong on top. Unless he's riding Aragorn's member. (ducks as tomatoes are thrown) I'm being facetious, people! Sometimes Leggy's great on top. It just didn't work in this fic.  
  
Chpt. 4 Summary: "This is the night that I will be made - or undone quite." – Iago in Othello.  
  
**  
Chapter 4: One Night**   
  
After departing from Legolas for a short while to take leave of his lady with his humblest apologies and pleading the dire need of his presence that night at a dying friend's side, Aragorn wound his way through the many dark corridors of Minas Tirith, back again to Legolas' chambers. He had not exactly lied, but he was nevertheless certain that a special place was at the moment being prepared for him in hell.   
  
His hand hesitated in the air, but before it could fall, the door swung inward and there stood Legolas – who grabbed Aragorn's shoulder and pulled him inside quickly. The elf stepped backward then to face the man. It was hard not to notice how the elf was now attired. The cobalt grey leggings molded to his curves as if they'd been painted on, and what the man supposed passed for a tunic rippled and swayed lightly over the contours of his chest and arms as he moved, an airy blue silk. The elf's nipples were peaked through the flimsy fabric. Legolas quirked an eyebrow at the man.  
  
"I prefer something more comfortable in the evenings," the elf stated off-handedly.  
  
Right.   
  
Forcing his eyes to settle elsewhere, Aragorn let his gaze wander the room. Dominating the room was a large canopied bed with sheer, chiffon curtains, and sweet-burning oil lamps hung from the ceiling around it. In the middle of the room stood the balcony arch, framed with drapes that fluttered like his heart in the cool evening breeze, and the scent of lilacs wafted through them. A writing desk of rich cherry wood stood next to the window, some parchments scattered on it, gold embossed books stacked neatly on its shelf, a porcelain vase of lilies – so like his friend, their natural beauty standing out amidst their costly surroundings. The light was dim in the room, shed only by a few artfully arranged candles and a crackling fire in the hearth. So many elegant rooms in his castle, he had never taken much note of this one. Simple and elegant like the elf, but it must have been chosen for the view they'd shared earlier.  
  
Aragorn allowed himself to be led by the hand to the rug in front of the fireplace, settling down as comfortably as he could and inhaling deeply to calm his quick, shallow breaths and the thrumming blood in his ears. Legolas left him then to fetch more wine, and he was grateful for it. He would need it.   
  
Glorious as his friend was, he had never before looked upon him with lust. He had studied Legolas with objective admiration in the detached way an artist would a painting- the pleasure of his mind's eye having already been fixed on the beauteous Evenstar. But then, he had never actually looked with lust on her either, more in worship, lending a chaste quality to their lovemaking. If he had gone to her tonight, she would have welcomed him to her bed in quiet obeisance, just as she had on the first night of their marriage. She would lie still on her back, silently, allowing him to love her as best he could while she waited for his completion. He could not imagine her igniting with the passion he so secretly longed for in a lover as he stroked himself in the dark watches of the night, alone in his chamber as he often slept. He could not imagine her taking his need into her mouth and moaning around it until his whole body quaked with the tension and unbearable need.   
  
No, and he was not sure he wanted that from her.   
  
Legolas, he was certain, would do that. He was impassioned in combat and would likely be so in bed. He thought of the times he had seen his friend disrobe to bathe, the lean, muscular curves of his chest that tapered to a delicate waist, the full, rounded buttocks that enticed one to cup them and taste. Any other man in his place now, who had sense enough and eyes to see, would surely fall on his knees and thank the Valar for his fortune. But the thought of his friend touching him intimately, the elf thrusting those pert buttocks into his entrance while Legolas' sweat-slicked stomach glided over Aragorn's back, moving on top of him... Aragorn's breathing quickened again, beads of moisture forming on his brow. The Valar help him - he had given his word. 'For no one else would I let this be done,' thought the man to himself. If there was a chance he could keep Legolas... What else was he to do but submit to the elf's touch and save his friend from dying of grief or sailing West, leaving him forever? He needed Legolas, would always need him. And what secrets did he not know of himself? His view of the elf was already beginning to blur seductively, confusing him with a challenge to everything he had always thought he had known about their relationship. 'For no one else,' he thought again.  
  
Legolas chose this opportune moment to return with the wine.   
  
"Drink," he said as he eased down next to the man. Aragorn complied with alacrity, downing the glass in one long draught.   
  
"Have another glass and come sit here in front of me," said Legolas, who was met with a tentative look. "You are too tense," he replied to the unasked question. "Let me work some of the knots out of your shoulders.   
  
Legolas spread his legs and Aragorn complied, settling between. Panic seized Aragorn's chest tightly and his breath froze as the archer's arms enclosed him. The nimble fingers began slowly, slowly unlacing the ties of his tunic. With effort he willed his arms to rise and allowed the shirt to be brought over his head, leaving his upper body exposed to Legolas' hands and gaze. He could feel the heat radiating from the elf's chest, so near to his back. He drank more wine.   
  
The fingers danced lightly at first along his shoulders and then kneaded with firm pressure, building into a slow, soothing rhythm. He had to admit, it did feel good. Despite himself, Aragorn felt his shoulders relaxing into the elf's touch, heard little moaning sighs escaping his lips as those knowing hands worked him. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps the effect of those practiced hands on his back; whatever it was, the man was surprised by the bold question he heard himself ask.   
  
"What were we like when we were together?"   
  
Aragorn could not help being curious, despite the lingering fear of his current situation that still licked at the corners of the man's mind. The elf chuckled softly at this, a light silvery sound that was good to hear once again.   
  
"My friend, for that brief moment in time we were like fire meeting ice, our passion sublimating into a whole new state of being uniquely our own."  
  
"That sounds lovely," said Aragorn, "but, hard for me to imagine." Despite his protestation of ignorance, an array of disturbing - yet stirring - possibilities shot unbidden through Aragorn's mind. He felt the red heat rising in his cheeks, but he just had to know. "What do you mean?" he said.  
  
Legolas leaned in close to the man's ear, silken hair falling over Aragorn's chest. "I mean, my friend," the elf whispered slowly, "that when I found you that day by the waterfall, I loved you on its bank many times, long and languid, and then with increasing need until Ithil rose high in the arc of heaven and I had wrenched fevered screams from your lips again and again."   
  
Images like the afterglow of a dream, of limbs tangled in moonlight and hands sliding over flesh, flitted through Aragorn's mind. He tried to clutch at them before they fled like wisps of pipe smoke on an evening breeze. Their whole affair was suddenly becoming very real to him. It was confusing, frightening, but also... intriguing. And he had been the submissive one?   
  
"You make me sound as if I were easily bent to your will," Aragorn said with a hint of amusement.  
  
"Well, you did bend over easily enough... my little man-slut," the elf replied, only to be summarily slapped on the thigh in answer.   
  
"Really," said Legolas, "I could sense your desire for me the moment we met. And as I came upon you that day by the river bank, I know you would have promised on your knees anything I asked for the chance to touch me."  
  
"Oh, gods," Aragorn groaned in mock disgust, failing to keep the grin out of his voice.  
  
The elf's hands smoothed down his back firmly now, then traced a light path up along his sides, coming down the center of his back once more and gliding lower. Aragorn did not know when Legolas had removed his own tunic; all he knew now was that it felt good to lean back into the elf's warmth and let him work magic with his hands.   
  
"Do you wish to hear more?" the elf whispered into Aragorn's ear, caressing it with his breath and the barest brush of his lips.  
  
"Yes," came the trembling, hardly audible reply.  
  
"The forest sang for us, Aragorn, as we kissed deeply and I lay you down, covering you with my body, exploring with hands and mouth all your lithe contours, learning the feel of you, the way you taste, your unique scent, like warm earth after a summer rain."   
  
Outside, larks sang the fading of evening, and Earendil shone brightly above the horizon in silent agreement with the elf.  
  
"When our bodies joined for the first time and you wrapped your legs around my waist, I was overwhelmed and lost myself completely in you. The world melted around us as we moved together and our gazes locked. Can you imagine the beauty of looking into each other's eyes the whole time we made love? Your lust-blackened eyes seemed to widen impossibly and your mouth fell open as I stroked your pleasure between us."  
  
The man's lungs labored to draw breath. He felt his eyes slowly closing as those lithe hands stroked along his biceps and the warm stream of whisperings kept flooding his mind with images.   
  
"Your lids lowered to half mast when I found that secret place deep in your body... and kept driving into it over and over. And I have never heard any music so sweet as when we climaxed together and my name was born on your lips, proclaiming your undying love for me."   
  
"But that was long ago." Sadness had crept back into Legolas' voice. "Though you do not now, you found me beautiful once."   
  
"I still find you beautiful. And if I were blind, I would still find you beautiful."   
  
The words came before Aragorn had a chance to think on them - but yes, they were true. What elvish bewitchment he was under, he cared not. If he turned his head to look, he was sure the elf's eyes would sear into his soul and pool heat lower in his body.  
  
Those strong hands slid to his biceps and pulled him back flush against Legolas' chest, warmth in front of him from the fire, and warmth enclosing him from behind. And then, a moist heat replaced the elf's hands, Legolas' lips pressing into his shoulder and mouthing in a way that sent a sudden bolt of pleasure through every part of the man's body. All conscious thought fled. There were only soft kisses on that sensitive place, the warmth of Legolas' chest and arms encircling him. Aragorn was only vaguely aware of his head tilting back to rest on the elf's shoulder, the now deeper groans that must be coming from him, the hands as they trailed lower down his front, massaging the inside of his thighs before one hand slid slowly upward and caressed his hardened need. The man's eyes opened wide and he sucked in a gasping breath at the feel of the delicious hand encircling him. He arched into it unconsciously, begging. The hand squeezed again.   
  
His whole body was wrapped in velvety warmth. The man writhed against Legolas' chest, felt hair like corn silk brushing his cheek as he turned his head into a pillowy shoulder and moaned his pleasure. No one had ever touched him like this. He ground himself back into the elf's welcoming heat, and something hard pressed into his back. The man snapped upright and leaned forward.   
  
'How?' he wondered to himself. He had allowed his friend to suckle his flesh. He moaned for his friend as the elf stroked his desire. 'How had he lost himself to this elf?' And it felt so amazing. So easy, so natural, but - Arwen.   
  
"Give in to me, Meleth," breathed Legolas softly, a firm caress to Aragorn's shaft emphasizing the command. "Let me give you pleasure."   
  
Aragorn turned his head then to his new lover, whose eyes had gone a deep shade of indigo. His own eyes closed. There was a soft pressure on his lips as the pad of Legolas' thumb dragged slowly across them. It was soon replaced by the elf's mouth moving sweetly against his. Had he ever felt his heart stop like this, and all the world fall away around him? All that he knew centered on the sensation of those silken lips flitting against his, then on the honeyed tongue coaxing him open, stroking him inside even as the elf's hand moved over the cloth of his breeches, on the vibration of moans passing between them as they devoured each other. He was fast losing all reason as every inch of his mouth was painted with the taste of Legolas.   
  
Then hands and tongue slowed as the elf pulled gently away. Legolas stood and offered his hand to Aragorn, who rose and trailed behind him, moving like one who has just awakened from sleep. Through his daze, he saw what that they had moved toward - the bed. The king's eyes widened. Knowing full well what was expected, he climbed atop and lay down obediently, trying to keep his eyes from clenching shut against witnessing what a part of his mind still held out from accepting, that he was about to betray his wife, that his best friend, another male, was about to take him. He felt the bed dip, heard those satin sheets sliding, and then there was the warmth of Legolas' whole length pressed against his side.   
  
"Shh, Meleth," Legolas murmured into his ear along with other soft Elvish endearments meant to soothe him as the elf would calm a frightened colt he intended to ride. His hand began rubbing circles along the man's chest before trailing lower to touch Aragorn's waning arousal. With those long and languorous strokes to his member, that desirous mouth caressing his ear, tasting him... resistance was beyond the bearing of mortal men. The gods forgive him. The part of the king that still held back caved in with a resounding echo that welled up from deep in the man's chest, parting his lips in an anguished cry.

---------------------

Passion exhausted, the elf crumpled limply upon Aragorn's chest, murmuring nonsensically in his own tongue, something about it being even better.   
  
Aragorn groaned at the loss as Legolas raised himself off the man's sex and rolled next to him on the bed, but he was immediately soothed by limbs draped lazily over his own. A hand came up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair back behind the man's ear, and the elf brought their mouths together in a gentle, lingering kiss.  
  
When the elf pulled back, a distinctly smug smile played on his lips.   
  
"Now, it was not so bad to make love to me, was it?"   
  
Outside, on the far horizon, Earendil shone brightly through the balcony arch. 


	5. In the HalfLight

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke  
E-mail: juliebgood001(at)hotmail(dot)com   
Website: www(dot)livejournal(dot)com/tools/memories.bml?user=miladyhawke  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: 5/6   
Rating: R overall  
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (loosely speaking), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where it's going.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.

* * *

Milady's notes: Almost done, folks – one more chapter after this one. Here I must bow low to that wickedly delightful author Khylaren and the archivist Aliyah (of LBES fame) for suggestions with the denouement of the story. Also, there's a little hint of W. B. Yeats in the second paragraph. Cookies for you if you get it. And wow, folks, I'm nearly ready to implode with the pressure of my own angst. You didn't think my melodramatic tendencies would allow things to be resolved so easily with a little sex, did you? Well, ok, a lot of sex, but still...  
  
Summary: _"More light and light it grows, more dark and dark our woes." - Romeo_  
  
Chapter 5:  
**In the Half-Light**  
  
Aragorn shifted in his sleep, a suspicious moan escaping the man's parted lips. The elf noted his lover's rigid length pressed against his thigh, and smiled. The man was obviously replaying the previous night's events.   
  
How long Legolas had watched his love sleep he could not say, but the first whisperings of morning were beginning to creep into the room, softening the shadows into the grey in-between of night and light and the half light. He had prayed to Elbereth for the dawn to remain at bay, for the dark to stretch on into endless night, cloaking the lovers in its secret embrace, but the lightening of the hour came inevitably like the certainty that autumn would follow their summer. Soon, soon, too soon he would leave his lover's side, or his lover leave his. One or the other would happen he knew, such was the nature of Arda that everything beautiful passes away.  
  
The elf tucked a stray tendril behind Aragorn's ear and then pulled the sheets further up over the man's chest. Legolas' eyes half closed in contentment with the view, even as his protectiveness of his lover kept him awake.   
  
What had the elf done last night but undo all those years of purposeful sacrifice? In one drunken night of transcendent love-making, those years were gone, his decision to spare Aragorn the pain of separation with one fateful bite of an apple, all gone. And the honor of both was lost. 'Arwen,' the elf nearly groaned allowed. He had not been thinking, only feeling, letting the wine give vent to long-kept frustrations. He had cared for no one but Aragorn last night, and in the growing light of day he wished he could not care for anyone else now.   
  
Legolas stretched a slender finger out to lightly trace a path along the man's lips. They were weathered, and yet somehow softened by their experience. In this sleep, the toll of mortal years seemed to fall away from Aragorn's face, leaving it with the supple glow of the youth Legolas had known all those years before. His love was beautiful, glorious, as if the elf had shared a part of his inner light with the man. This was how he wished to remember Aragorn, one and at peace with the world and himself.  
  
Legolas brushed the barest whisper of a gentle kiss to the man's mouth, but not gentle enough, for Aragorn's lips came alive under the elf's touch. The man stirred and opened sleepy eyes.  
  
"Legolas," said Aragorn with a dreamy smile as his hand rose up to cup the elf's cheek. "My heart remembers. How could it not? I do love you, Legolas, my elf, I love you."   
  
The windows to his soul were soft and warm with love as Aragorn brought their mouths together then in a slow, tender kiss. Tears began to seep from the corners of Legolas' closed eyes, and Aragorn wrapped his arms around the elf, rolling his lover on top of him.  
  
Licking the tears away, the man asked, "Why do you weep, love?" as he stroked the elf's cheek.  
  
"Because under Earendil's light, all things are possible, but in the light of day, you are king, and you are married, and I haven't tears enough for the wrong I've done you, for the position I've put you in by forcing you to choose. In my wine I was weak and selfish not to care for Arwen."  
  
A stricken look passed over Aragorn's face. "Is that not for me to decide? Was that not what last night was about?"  
  
"I will not be a kept lover, and even if you would choose me over her, you cannot just send her away now - though if she knew of our love she would sail West, I am sure. She is so much nobler than either of us."  
  
Aragorn could no longer meet the elf's gaze and looked down at their chests pressed tightly together. "I need this day to ponder what is to be done, A'maelamin, but I will come to you tonight when Ithil rides high in the arc of heaven. But whatever we do, I promise we will make the decision together this time."  
  
ooo  
  
In the soft orange light of the hour before supper, a hunched figure sat at a writing desk facing a window, occasionally signing, stamping, and sealing the mess that had lain in front of him for hours. Outside, a warm summer breeze that hinted of lilies drifted in past his cheek, drawing a little sigh from his lips and a faraway look. He rested his head upon his hand as he stared out the window, giving up all pretense of trying to work.  
  
In another part of the castle, the same breeze whipped long strands back from a golden elf's face as he sat unmoving on the rail of a balcony high above Minas Tirith.  
  
Several corridors away, a dark beauty in rich wine-colored velvets lay sprawled on her bed with heaving chest and a hand clasped over her heart.

-tbc-


	6. Forgive Us Our Sins

Title: De Profundis  
Author: Milady Hawke, Le Fay  
E-mail: juliebgood001(at)hotmail(dot)com  
Web: www(dot)livejournal(dot)com/miladyhawke  
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas  
Status: complete, 6/6  
Rating: cut for an R here, but NC-17 at my livejournal  
Genres: Angst, Romance, First Time (sort of), Canon-friendly  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where it's going.  
Feedback: Turns me on.  
Disclaimer: No ownership, no money, no sue.

Author's note: I've heard A/L is trite and done. I don't think so.

Overall summary: Some loves should not be forgotten, and some can never be. For land, for honor, for love, Legolas gives Estel to the world - but can he keep any hope for himself?

* * *

Chapter 6 Notes: There's a quote from the Anglo-Saxon poem "The Seafarer" in the second paragraph. And a hint of "Princess Bride" near the end of the story. And thank you so much to everyone who has been taking the time to share your thoughts on the story with me. You guys keep writers writing.  
  
Summary: _'Death cannot stop true love – all it can do is delay it a little while.'_ -Wesley  
  
Chapter 6:  
**Forgive us Our Sins**  
  
The waters lapped at the little coracle as the prow dipped and bobbed on the waves. Ragged shreds of clouds could not obscure the haloed moon that shone a straight path of gold upon the water, stretching westward to the Undying Lands. As a mother would cradle a new-born babe, Arda rocked the elf gently in her soothing sea-arms, in a tender embrace like but unlike a comforting bower of trees. And Legolas allowed himself to remember, to remember a night more than a hundred years passed.  
  
Aragorn had come as he'd promised that night after their lovemaking and found Legolas still sitting on his balcony perch as he had all day, but the elf had not turned to greet his love. In the frosty light of Ithil, he had felt like he'd been set adrift alone in a world blown clear of love.  
  
After a stretch of silence between himself and the man, Legolas found himself scooped into strong arms and set down to stand in front of Aragorn. His hand's were brought to the man's chest and held there.  
  
Long minutes passed as they looked into each other's eyes, divining without words what was in the other's mind, until finally all that was left to do was to give and hear the explanations.  
  
"Legolas," said Aragorn, casting his eyes to the floor. "I went to the lady. And she knew. Even before I had opened my mouth."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"She said to me that she was not so much nobler than the both of us. She knew, Legolas. She knew all those years ago as she prepared to leave Lorien and meet me for the first time in Rivendell. Her grandmother-mistress led Arwen to her mirror of clear water, and Arwen looked, and saw you loving me under the moon. On arriving, she said that Lord Elrond assured her that all was well, that he had washed away our memories, and so she acquiesced because she wanted me for herself. Though she knew," Aragorn said in a hitched voice.  
  
"And she knew that part of my heart would remember my golden lover and never be hers. She wished she could hate me, but she knew. And so, she said, she had set the stage for our betrayal but that she had played a greater part. Her betrayal was far greater than ours could have ever been. She knowingly prevented true love, and for this, she said, she is punished. All are punished."  
  
His own he could stand, but the elf could not bear the sight of tears streaking a path down Aragorn's cheeks. He wiped them away gently with the pads of his thumbs and cupped the man's face upward to look at him.  
  
"Does she love you still, Aragorn? Will she still have you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You must be kind to her, Aragorn, and both must learn to forgive. We have all suffered enough. You must remember why you married her, for part of you loves her still, flawed as she is, as we all are." The elf's next words were barely a whisper. "I ask only one thing for myself, for your forgiveness, that you remember me without bitterness."  
  
"A thousand times granted, Meleth-nin. And unburden your heart of this guilt - for all the pain it has caused, I would still have you remind me again of our past and love me once more. Our time I would not give up for the world."  
  
Aragorn's hands firmly held the elf's face then with the fierce determination to be understood.  
  
"You know that in my heart I choose you," he said.  
"I know. And may you know that I will carry my love for you to a place where it will ever grow green."  
  
He had not told Aragorn that no grey ship would bear the elf west over water till his lover's passing.  
  
In the moment that followed his last words to his love, Legolas knew that the meeting of their mouths surpassed in purity all other kisses that had ever been recorded in the history of Arda.  
  
A fresh gust of wind billowed his sails, and Legolas returned to himself, for the moment was over. The corners of the elf's mouth turned upward slowly, and tears of relief slid down his cheeks as he spread his arms wide and released to the waters the great weight he had carried near two hundred years, receiving in that moment a glowing benediction as the moon wreathed him in light.  
  
For certain, Aragorn had known the pain the elf carried, of separation, of remembering what was and dreaming of what would never be. But surely Elbereth had granted his lover the same peace he had found? This separation was a pain they could both cherish, a decision they had made together. Bittersweet, yes, but he and the man had both remembered, and the memory of their love was the fire that warmed the rest of their days, strengthening the man in the face of life's onslaught, and in Legolas' heart set to flourish in Valinor. Their loving was as one ripple forever stretching onwards in the waters of time, Aragorn's own immortality.  
  
And who knew what fate awaited the second-born of Eru, to what place men went after they passed from this world? Though the elves sailed west to their eternal home or else passed in death to Mandos' halls, and naught was known of man's final destination, surely the two races would not forever be separated where bonds of love were strong.  
  
The elf steered his wandering prow back again towards the horizon. Earendil, The Mariner, that ancient symbol of hope, shown a glimmering path of light along the dark waters ahead, and the elf steered his course by it.  
  
THE END


End file.
